


Dark Was the Night

by plus_minus



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plus_minus/pseuds/plus_minus
Summary: A study of the thirteen years of Vanille's life as the Saint of Luxerion.(Warning: depictions of depression and suicidal thoughts.)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Prelude

**“Después No Quiero Más Que Paz”**

**_("Afterwards I want only peace.")_ **

**-Pedro Mir**

  
  
  


**_Prelude_ **

**_[The Final Day]_ **

_Was my life worthwhile?’_ Vanille wonders as she gets dressed in the different layers of her holy robes, preparing for a ceremony that will kill her. In five hours, when the clock strikes twelve, she will summon all of the souls of those who have perished in the last five centuries to the holy clavis. Overtaken by the Chaos, both she and those souls will die and disappear from the collective memory of humanity. 

It will be a fitting end for her.

A long, _long_ , time ago, when Vanille was fourteen and still living in her home village of Oerba, she had wanted to be a nurse. She’d wanted to help people recover from injury and illness. But because she had no immediate family, there was no money to send her to Paddra to study at the regional medical school. So she’d settled for the modest goal of becoming a sheep herder for the many farmers around her home village. Like most people, she’d probably choose a long term partner before she was twenty. She hoped that they would have kids; she'd prefer to adopt orphans, to help children that were just like her. Maybe later she'd be blessed with grandkids of her own. If she was extremely fortunate, then she would live to see her own great-grandchildren before passing away. 

But a simple life like that was never meant to be. Before her sixteenth birthday the War of Transgression came, a conflict that slowly eroded the local villages and its inhabitants through famine and destruction. Later, the fal'Cie Anima had chosen Fang to become l'Cie, but she had rebelled. Vanille had offered to become l'Cie as repentance for Fang's sin. Anima accepted and tasked them to become Ragnarok, the beast that had the power to destroy Cocoon and end the war. 

They probably shouldn’t have fulfilled their Focus; Vanille did nothing, so they should have become Cie’th then. Fang was stubborn enough to become Ragnarok on her own. Everything Fang had done was to help Vanille survive, but at what cost to Vanille? Guilt and five hundred years of sleep. After that, it was guilt and one thousand years of sleep. Then it was more guilt and the curse of hearing souls wailing through the Chaos. 

The fight to survive was certainly never worth the pain of hurting so many others.

But exactly ten years ago, she was offered a righteous path through serving The Order of Salvation; the High Priestess and other officials had explained to her the true purpose for Bhunivelze’s plan. On the final day of the world she could stop the suffering of the dead stuck in the Chaos. She could perform the Soulsong. Although she would sacrifice her own life in doing so, it would help create the perfect new world for the rest of humanity that remained. Of course Vanille said yes. It was the only way to cancel out her many sins, the many lives that had been lost due to her actions all those centuries ago.

 _‘Was my life worthwhile? No... it probably wasn't.’_ She shuts the door to her chambers one last time before heading to the altar. ‘ _Perhaps things would have gone differently if I hadn’t been born at all. Maybe the world wouldn’t have ended up like this._

Guards from The Order flank her from all sides, the clanking sound of metal armor in sync with the pace of her own footsteps. Through the fogged windows that line her path she can just make out the drops of rain falling from the sky: a dreary way to see the world end. Though she can’t see the large Chaos Infusions that the guards have reported from around the city, she can hear the wailing of those who have died. Their misery, much like hers, will be over soon.

It’s hard not to think of the people she’s cared about throughout her lifetime...those she has loved, those she has lost...a few of them will have their own souls destroyed in the ritual. The thought stings. She bites her tongue to distract herself. It’s enough to stop her from crying; she can’t lose her composure now, not during this time that will lead to her atonement.

 _'What does oblivion feel like?’_ Vanille, the blessed Saint of Luxerion, ponders this question not for the first time as they descend lower and lower to the catacombs. Closer and closer to the altar in God’s Sanctum where she will take her final breaths.

_‘It will feel like nothing, like all of the lights turned off in a windowless room. And it will probably be a relief.’_


	2. A New World

**Part 1 -** **A New World**

**[Year 1]**

**( I )**

Vanille opened her eyes feeling ill, her stomach walking the fine line between nausea and intense hunger. Was she waking up from a long sleep? But if that really was the case why was she lying on a cold tiled floor, instead of on a bed?

 _‘What happened?’_ She felt a hand placed on her shoulder. When she saw the blue and gold trimmed fabric touching the ground beside her she immediately knew who was by her side.

_'Oh, Fang and I woke up from our crystal sleep together. This must be a blessing, just like the last time.’_

Fang scoffed at a figure in the distance. "And just who _are_ you?" 

Vanille's vision adjusted to the dimly lit room. She spotted a young girl about fifty feet away amongst a set of a dozen or so lit candles. All that she could make out was pink hair and a young oval-shaped face. She tried to pin down the resemblance...

"I'll have to let the high priestess know that you're awake." The girl clapped her hands together. "I hope you two enjoy it here. I heard that God blessed one of you with some very special powers. And God _always_ rewards his good servants." Giggling, the figure disappeared into a thick dark fog. 

“That was weird.” Fang said, turning to make sure her companion was unharmed by the strange visit.

“She looked kinda like Serah,” Vanille decided. Her focus turned to the jagged object in her hand. It was a clear stone, which looked as if it were made of the same crystal they had been contained in during their stasis. The ridges were haphazard, which made all the more appealing to run her fingers over.

“That wasn’t her. It couldn't have been. Serah’s gone. We both know that, we watched it happen with our own eyes.”

* * *

**( II )**

Later, they would find out that the child’s name was Lumina; according to the Order, she was born of the Chaos that now infiltrated the world. Although she had command of the Chaos, Etro’s essence, it was not clear if she had ties to the Goddess.

Was her creation connected to Serah’s death? Lightning’s surrender to a crystal sleep to take the place of Etro? Or was she just a trickster who happened to look like both of them? Lumina herself refused to directly answer the question, and nobody in the Order seemed to have the answer.

  
  
  


* * *

**( III )**

_"I heard that God blessed one of you with some very special powers.”_

At the time, Lumina’s first words to Vanille had perplexed her, but it didn’t take long for her to understand what the child was saying.

“Wait, did anyone else hear that?” 

Both Fang and their escort shook their heads. They were being led to their new living space by a woman, Terah, who wore a thick gray cloak. It was much more ornate than the ceremonial garb of the priests of Anima, as it was lined with gold buttons and intricately designed checkered fabric. 

When Terah had found them in that windowless room, she’d explained gently that she was part of a religious organization called the Order of Salvation. The two of them had awoken in one of the many chambers within the large cathedral. It was the main landmark of a city called Luxerion, which the Order had governance over. Fang and Vanille had already known a little bit about this world; although their memories were fuzzy, they recalled watching Snow bargain with the leaders of the same religious organization to let the people of Yusnaan party deep into the night without their interference. They couldn’t recall much else.

Fang furrowed her brow. She'd been on edge ever since Terah had found them. After dealing with Anima's priests she wanted nothing to do with religious organizations. “What did you hear?”

“Somebody talking. But it sounds really distant.”

Fang stopped walking, her eyes diligently scanning the long hallway and surrounding doors. “I didn’t hear anything. What did they say?”

“They were saying that they miss their family. But it was pretty muffled.” Vanille rubbed her arms. It was cold here, and she was still dressed in a skirt and a short top. The vents that fervently blew warm air and fogged up the windows were not nearly enough to make her feel warm.

_‘[My son. Gods, I miss my son so much.]’_

“I still hear it,” she mumbled.

“Dunno, Vanille. It’s weird. You know I always had the better hearing out of the two of us. And I can’t hear a damn thing.” Fang turned, facing their new acquaintance. “What about you, miss?”

Terah shook her head. “Unfortunately I can’t hear it, either.”

It was the first of several times that day where she had heard people speaking that Fang and others could not. It made her wonder…

Back in Oerba, kids were always telling stories about the man who lived on the edge of the village with his parents. They said he could hear voices that weren’t his, that he must have been cursed by Anima. They speculated that his family had gravely offended the fal’Cie. His parents had to watch over him every day as he couldn’t hold a steady job or make friends. While the other kids would laugh or gleefully expand upon this story, Vanille had always felt saddened by it, thinking of a man suffering with nobody but his parents to talk to.

Now that she could also hear voices that weren’t there, was she cursed as well?

* * *

**( IV )**

The first days were a confusing haze, adjusting to life inside of the large cathedral and being introduced to names and concepts that they loosely remembered from their crystal sleep. _Luxerion. Yusnaan. Bhunivelze._ _A 500 year lifespan where nobody ages._ _Chaos._

At the start of the second day they had an audience with a priest of the Order. He didn’t answer their questions about the voices, but he was willing to talk to them about other subjects. It was still helpful; although they remembered watching their friends during their nearly 1000 year rest, there are other things they didn’t know about the world. 

When they asked the man if Oerba still existed, he had explained in a tentative voice that it was gone, swallowed up by the Chaos. They weren’t upset by that news. As far as they were concerned, they’d done their grieving already; their home village was already gone hundreds of years ago, when they’d discovered it desolate and covered in crystal dust. 

* * *

**(** **V )**

“Ah, it is just as our Lord Bhunivelze proclaimed in the prophecy that he spoke to me many years ago.” The High Priestess noded, her lips returning to a thin line: the typical state when she wasn’t speaking. Dark brown eyes peered from behind the golden mask she donned. It was at that moment Vanille wished she hadn’t agreed to meeting this woman alone. “ _‘Of the two women frozen in crystal, one will be tasked with the gift to hear the voices of the souls departed.’_ ”

“I see.” Vanille replied, unsurprised to once again have a fate pre-ordained by the Gods. The Order worshipped Bhunivelze, a god she doesn't remember hearing about when she grew up. But Bhunivelze was even above Lindzei and Pulse, having created the two before humanity’s existence. Was Bhunivelze a kind god, or as uncaring as the fal’Cie? “And what should I do with that power?”

“It is your choice, but you could put your powers and your kindness to use in serving The Order of Salvation.”

“If I join the Order, what will you have me do? How can I be of any use?” She’d attended a prayer service that morning with Fang. The pair was held in high regard since they had emerged from a crystal sleep, which hadn’t been witnessed in their lifetime. She was struck by how welcoming most people were to her, although she could tell that most of them carried a weariness lurking underneath their gentle disposition. 

“You have the power to aid God and his people and have a very special role in the end of days. We will tell you more about that when you are ready. In the meantime, your kindness towards others is certainly an asset to help humanity during these hard times.”

 _Help humanity._ That was enough for her. It was a chance to repent; she was a coward when she and Fang’s Focus had been to summon Ragnarok, and because of her cowardice those many years ago, people had died. Fang had to bear that burden alone, which hurt as well. Vanille eagerly nodded in agreement.

“There are some conditions you must abide by, of course…”

* * *

**(** **VI )**

From then on, Vanille attended services in the morning and in the evening. She studied the teachings of Bhunivelze after she learned how to read their language. She’d left behind the commoner’s clothes she’d been wearing and started to don the holy robes issued to every believer that lived within the cathedral’s walls. She couldn’t leave the cathedral premises, as she was told The Order of Salvation has dangerous enemies. Guards watched over her at all times, with one even stationed outside her and Fang’s personal chambers. 

Fang, of course, had argued against all of this. She wanted her and Vanille to leave Luxerion and the religious fanatics behind to explore what was left of the world. But in the end Vanille was able to stop her from throwing too much of a fit, arguing that serving people was more important than any personal goal. As long as Vanille stood her ground, she knew eventually Fang would relent and stay close by out of her own personal pledge to protect her.

At Vanille’s insistence, Fang attended services once a week. Although she went through the motions of a polite worshipper in a holy place, Vanille knew that in the rare moments that Fang prayed aloud, she mumbled most of the words through a clenched jaw.

* * *

**(** **VII )**

"Lady Fang, how is your morning?"

"It's going fine, Aremiah. But do you mind not calling me 'Lady'? It's too formal." Fang rolled her eyes, chuckling. "You people should know I'm a savage by now."

The High Priestess had assigned an attendant to see to Vanille and Fang’s personal needs in addition to personal tutoring. It was strange, really; Vanille never thought she’d have an assistant, as she was just an orphan from a small village that was lost a long time ago. Servants were for the wealthy royalty in the stories she would read as a kid.

The first thing Vanille noticed about Aremiah was the way that her smile and humbleness were genuine. After their initial meeting, Fang joked that Vanille and the new attendant are too alike. Vanille came to find out that this wasn’t exactly the case; Aremiah gossiped more about herself and others. Most of it was harmless, though.

Their servant was quick to talk about her own past as well. Aremiah was a few weeks short of twenty-five years old when the Chaos came into the world. Her memories were a bit fuzzy from that time, but she remembered that she was from a city about ten miles north of Paddra. Soon after her family moved from there to Luxerion. She’d married a man named Muthera a few years after that. They were together for 121 years, but unfortunately he had died in a construction accident. She was absolutely devastated to lose her soulmate. About fifteen years later her sister had died in an epidemic. 

After two heartbreaks in so short of a time, Aremiah had turned to the teachings of Bhunivelze for comfort. Her deepened relationship with God had motivated her to join the Order, and she was content ever since.

* * *

**(** **VIII )**

“Hey ‘Nille, wouldn’t it be kinda funny if this rose-haired savior they keep talking about during the services was Light? Since she has that connection to Etro”

“I dunno. It could be, but the texts don’t really say much about who the Savior is, just what she’ll do to save peoples’ souls during the final thirteen days of the world.”

“Yeah.” Fang chuckled as she put the tea kettle on the stove, initiating their morning ritual of breakfast together. “Imagine Light doing all that for humanity though. And if I saw her we’d probably just argue over stupid crap the whole damn time.”

“Yeah, I guess you would.” Vanille smiled, fondly remembering their bickering on Gran Pulse. One time they’d raised their voices a bit too loudly about who would be the best one at hunting for food, and they’d accidently drawn the attention of a couple of behemoths and other vermin. It was a good thing the two of them were a dynamic duo when it came to fighting, otherwise the group of l’Cie would have been in grave danger. 

“Maybe if it was Serah I’d have a shot at getting my soul saved, but who really knows-”

“Oh, Fang. Don’t talk like that.” Vanille replied, dejected. According to the priests and priestesses, if somebody didn’t believe in the teachings of Bhunivelze, they wouldn’t make it to the new world. Their soul would simply be destroyed. 

The thought had been gnawing at her for a while: at the end of thirteen years, what would become of Fang, the person that Vanille cared for the most? 

* * *

**(** **IX )**

"Hey, I grabbed dinner tonight." Fang held up a paper bag as she closed the entrance to their place. "If that's okay."

Even from where Vanille was laying on the couch, she could smell the hot spices that were popular in Luxerion. It’d been several months since they'd awoken, but she was still not entirely used to the taste of their food. Oerban cuisine had relied on the use of more mild spices and more meat. She especially missed pelbyri, her favorite meal of vegetables and meat with a special cream sauce served on bread. She and Fang had tried to replicate it a few times in their kitchenette, but it never quite worked out. They just couldn’t find substitutes for the original spices among the various vendors of the Luxerion markets, no matter how many merchants Fang had spoken with. "Of course it is. Is there a special occasion?"

"Ah, you know me too well." Fang joined her on the furniture and squeezed Vanille’s hand. "I did want to tell you about something."

"Well, it's not every day we buy food for dinner instead of eating in the dining hall with everyone. "What's the news?"

"Right. So in the Warehouse District I've been seeing all these signs posted that they need help. Today I talked to one of the shipping managers, and he's really interested in me working there. Think I'll start next week."

"Fang, that's great!" Vanille smiled as she gave her an excited hug.

"Yeah, it's something to do, you know? Just a few hours a day. I'm tired of sitting around so much, might as well do something with my time."

 _'I know you don’t have much to do when I go to mass and scripture study. You’re probably bored_ , _’_ Vanille thought to herself, but knew this would be better left unsaid. "I bet it will be really fun." 

She remembered the men and women who worked down by the docks of Oerba. Sometimes she and Fang would sit by the water and watch the adults move crates and boxes between the ship and shore. Fang had always said that if she hadn’t been so set on being a hunter that she’d probably be among them, working hard to deliver supplies and goods to the village.

* * *

**(** **X )**

The cathedral was never comfortable for Vanille. The architecture was too daunting, too unfamiliar. At first, the high ceiling of the chapel reminded her of Anima’s vestige. She didn’t even like the feel of her own personal quarters. The dark wooden furniture stayed dreary despite the bright throw pillows Fang had bought from the market. 

The only area of the Cathedral that Vanille truly enjoyed was the flower garden in the courtyard. Her connection with the dirt was her connection to Gran Pulse. Technically, they were still living on the remnants. That gave her a little bit of joy, but it was jarring to think about how things were compared to Oerba. Her past life was hunting, herding sheep, swimming in the river, and community nights by the fire. Electronic technology was sparse, especially after the war with Cocoon had started. 

Things were radically different in Luxerion. Most of her days were lived indoors, with electricity running through many objects. While the quality of the paintings and the stained glass in the cathedral amazed her, it was still overwhelmingly unnatural. Instead of learning how to independently earn the basic necessities, they are simply handed out to people. It was a sanitized version of living.

“Fang, do you see these flowers blooming? Oh, they’ve been coming up so nicely!” She could stay there all day, pulling weeds and watering the plants. The patch of greenery was formerly maintained by a group of groundskeepers before she’d awoken from her stasis. However, it didn't take much to convince them to make the task hers.

The flowers made her life more vibrant. The stained glass windows in the cathedral may have been more colorful, but they couldn’t be touched over and over again. They couldn't be sung to or nurtured, either. The flowers in the gardens were a different species than the ones she knew hundreds of years ago, but she could sense the similarities sometimes, in the shapes and smells. She’d make a mental list of comparisons during the day, so she could explain them to Fang in great detail during the nights that they relaxed in the courtyard.

The sweet scents brought Vanille back to childhood. She’d spent so much time among the community gardens around Oerba. Sometimes she was alone, sometimes it was with Fang or some of their friends. She still felt that comfort when Fang was with her. She usually teased Vanille for talking to the plants. She groaned when the younger woman tried to put the petals in her hair. When they inevitably fell to the ground a second later it felt like there was a chance that they might still be children again.

* * *

**(** **XI )**

“You know, this is the best that we’ve ever had it in life.” Fang said as she sipped on her bottle of beer. They sat in chairs, watching the sun far beyond the walls of the cathedral. “Living comfortably, not having to worry about starving. Being waited on.” She put her drink down and continued, lowering her voice. “I mean, not that things are perfect. I know things are so hard on you, hearing the souls and all.”

“Yeah.” Vanille twirled her straw around in her fingers, fixated at the dark fruit moving slightly at the bottom of the glass. “I understand what you mean though. That we at least don’t have to worry about food like we did when we were younger.”

“Gods, I wish I could make it all go away for you. So in a way it’s bittersweet, you know?”

* * *

**(** **XII )**

It was another sleepless night. The Chaos had been gathering somewhere near or inside the Cathedral, and souls drifted in and out of the area, their laments swimming in Vanille’s head. She’d probably have to talk to Aremiah about it; maybe they could move somewhere else in the cathedral, away from the infusion.

She loses herself in her reflection in the mirror. Who is this woman with bloodshot eyes and hair disheveled with lopsided waves? There’s a vacant stare, and she almost can’t believe that this is who she has become.

She watched behind her as a small gray piece of Chaos wandered into the room. A voice moaned, burdened with loneliness. _‘[Is this it? Is this all there is now? Eternal darkness. Please, help me!]’_

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I can’t do anything.” Her whisper turned into a strained sob. She turned around and reached her hand out, as if the small mass could be comforted by it. She was surprised that it drew closer to her, but she knew that the act could do nothing to help the person trapped inside.

* * *

**(** **XIII )**

“Look at them out there, like brainwashed little sheep,” Fang jeered as she watched a pilgrim speak in the courtyard outside the window. He was elaborating on the teachings of Bhunivelze to a small group before him. Vanille guessed that he might have been reviewing the sermon from earlier that morning about repenting for sins through praying to Bhunivelze. “Doesn’t even give ‘em a chance to think about what he’s really saying, just spouts off all the pretty words they wanna hear.”

Vanille made a small noise of disagreement, even though she knew nothing good would come of it. There was no use in arguing with Fang, who had always spoken ill of religion. In the past she’d blamed the priests of Oerba the most for their village’s situation, forcing them to submit to Anima, the local fal’Cie. But Anima never really did much for the humans at all. 

“Just makes you sick, doesn’t it?” Fang turned away from the scene and crossed her arms.

But Vanille saw that the Order was different, because they helped bring solace to the people. She knew that they gave them a community to share their joy and sorrow with in their dying world. “Not really. Even if some of it isn’t always true, I think it gives people hope. Their lives have been so hard for so long.”

“Still doesn’t excuse those bastards for taking advantage of them—”

“Don’t call them that,” she shot back curtly, wishing Fang wouldn’t be so judgemental and harsh. “They’re just trying to help others. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Fang’s footsteps echoed as she began to make her way down the corridor. “Fine, see it how you want. Whatever.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to SXM132 for the proofreading.


	3. Decisions

**_Part 2 - Decisions_ **

**_[Years 2 - 6]_ **

  
  


**(I)**

As a child, Vanille learned that fal'Cie granted two types of visions: those for the l'Cie and the dreams encountered while sleeping. Oerbans believed that Anima was the one who put the dreams in their heads, and there were wise people in the village who would help to interpret them. Before she had pledged herself as a l'Cie to Anima, Fang had gone to see one of the old women in the village about her dreams. She never spoke about the visit, and Vanille always wondered about that.

After she had helped to destroy Anima, Vanille had nightmares about the people close to her suffering terrible fates. Some other fal'Cie was trying to punish her for her lies, she was certain of it. Even when Pandaemonium was rumored to be the last fal’Cie in Nova Chrysalis, she figured it must have been responsible for her night terrors. 

However, one morning during her second year in Luxerion felt different. She had woken up from a strange dream that was not unpleasant: she was in the village as she knew it during her childhood; she knew that the villagers were around, but for some reason she couldn’t remember interacting with any of them. Instead Snow, Lightning, Hope, and Sazh were in the main square of Oerba, talking about cornerball; one of Vanille and Fang's favorite childhood games. She and Sazh laughed as Snow tried (but failed) to peg Hope with the leather ball. 

It wasn't clear what this dream should mean, but Vanille knew that it was a good omen that it was devoid of violence. It had worried her that Fang wasn’t there, but there had to have been a good reason for that. The dream must have been a sign that they would all eventually be okay.

  
  
  


* * *

**(II)**

The melody played on the piano was as slow and drab as the gray sky outside the window. But somehow it was comfortable to Vanille as well, like the feeling of lying in bed all morning while a cold rain poured outside. Luckily she wasn’t too far removed from this sentiment as she laid on the couch in their suite, reading a book.

“Try to relax your fingers a little. It helps you reach the keys better,” Aremiah gently reminded her student sitting on the bench.

“Yeah, yeah.” Fang replied nonchalantly, but she was clearly a bit worn as she wiped her forehead with her left hand. She’d made a few mistakes during the more difficult bridge of the song, when the pacing changed slightly. 

Aremiah had started her time in the Order as an organist in the ensemble. Eager to share her expertise, she’d convinced herself that Fang would be a fine musician; her slender fingers and physical prowess as a hunter were perfect for the piano. Didn’t fighting have a rhythm of its own? Although Fang didn’t think she was such a natural at playing an instrument, she was willing to go along with it. It was, as she’d pointed out, not a bad way to pass the time.

“If you make a mistake, try not to tense up this time. I know it’s easier said than done.” Aremiah assured once more. Fang nodded, wearing an expression that had clearly run out of confidence a while ago. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

**(III)**

After the first year, a small crowd would appear outside the cathedral every morning, waiting for a glimpse of the Saint of Luxerion. They said she was the one who could hear the Chaos. The “Saint” herself had prayed for them, because they didn’t know the truth, the truth that would make them hate her...hundreds of years ago, their very Saint had failed humanity and caused many deaths and events that brought despair to the world.

When the high priestess requested that she make more public appearances to keep up this public interest, she had initially refused. Her stomach tightened at the pressure. Would she even have something reassuring to say to these people who have been in pain for so long? Eventually she relented and picked a day every month to go out in the Hall of Devotion. 

Vanille kept the visitations no longer than an hour. She opened with the traditional prayer at the altar, then recited from memory a brief uplifting speech (which Aremiah would always write a few days before). Then people fought for her attention as she made conversation with those within reaching distance. Although she’d initially hoped that the children would cheer her up, even  _ they _ couldn’t lift her spirits. After spending hundreds of years in the same body, children were just as jaded as the adults.

  
  
  


* * *

**(IV)**

“Heya, heard you ladies finally woke up. Was it a good nap?” The joke was so bad Snow frowned after telling it. “Gods, I’m sorry I didn’t visit any time last year. Everything was chaos. Literally Chaos, you know. When that stuff gets in the way it’s a disaster. Our supply chain broke down again. Lots of sleepless nights for me. Have to make sure everyone gets fed, you know. But things are better.” 

“It’s alright, Snow. We’re just glad you finally made it.” Vanille reassured him in between bites of food, trying to get the first word in. Before their meeting Fang had made a passive-aggressive comment about how disappointed she was that Snow hadn’t made time for them before this; they were a brief train ride away. Vanille had understood the hurt behind her words, but also wanted to give Snow the benefit of the doubt. She knew the feeling of wanting to isolate herself on the rare days where she had no responsibilities. 

Afterwards, Vanille had wished for two things: that Snow hadn’t looked so gaunt and haggard, and that she’d know when she would see him again.

  
  
  
  


* * *

**(V)**

The good news that Snow brought with him was that they could write to Sazh. Both women wished that they could visit in person, but according to Snow, Sazh was a complete recluse. So they both write their own letters to him, hoping that they might reach him in a couple of months.

_ “Dear Sazh, _

_ It’s hard for me to know how to start this. Well, first off, it’s good to know that you’re in touch with Snow. I’m glad I can write to you. Fang and I know about Dajh from our crystal sleep, and we’re both so sorry to hear about that. It really pains me that he isn’t with you. I’m so sorry. _

_ Snow might have told you this already, but we are staying in Luxerion...”  _

  
  
  
  


* * *

**(VI)**

"I can see you, Fang. In this stone."

The woman being addressed hadn’t even bothered to look up from the book that she was reading. "What do you mean? I'm right here, silly."

"I think I can see you in here. I'm facing away from you, and it works. It can't be a reflection from this angle. Come, look."

She held the same stone that laid on the ground when they awoke in the cathedral about a couple years ago. Vanille had kept it in a drawer in her writing desk ever since, admiring its sheen during dull moments. Fang grasped it in her left hand to observe it from various perspectives. Vanille watched as her expression changed from coy to surprised.

"You're right. Hm, I can see you from a different angle." Her brows furrowed. "Silly little trinket, but I guess I've seen weirder. You should keep it."

As the object was returned to Vanille, she giggled as she put it back into its typical resting place. "Like you said, you're right here. I won't need it."

Fang nodded in response. "Right. I'll always be with you, just like we promised all those years ago."

  
  
  
  


* * *

**(VII)**

Vanille knew that she would die ten years before it was going to happen.

One morning the high priestess and priests led Vanille to a chamber. She was puzzled, as she has never deviated from the habit of attending the morning prayer ceremony. That day marked three years since the day she and Fang woke up. For Bhunivelze, and therefore the Order of Salvation, there was significance in anniversaries.

They inform her that a decade from now she will be at the altar before them to perform the Soulsong, a ritual they have explained to her many times. But there was something they’ve left out of their explanation, something that she should know before she commits herself as a priestess of Bhunivelze...

“If you choose to perform the Soulsong, you will sacrifice your life.” When she calls forth the souls of the dead, they will rush at her and consume her and destroy the current souls in the process. Then, her life will be over. This was not a shocking revelation. After all, the Chaos had the power to kill ordinary mortals. God punished her by giving her the gift of hearing the dead...she knew this to be true, knew it to be a fact just like the dirt below and sky above her. 

“Your soul will join theirs. All will be destroyed. It is of critical importance for the great Bhunivelze’s new world that this may happen. If the Soulsong isn’t performed at the End of Days, humanity will have to end. Do you accept this, Lady Vanille? Will you respond to God’s call to help save humanity?”

It was better to die than continue to hurt others. She would pay the rest of her debts as she stands upon that altar and prays for death. This life that she never wanted to lead, where hundreds of years ago she’d helped call forth a power dangerous to humanity. Where she’d hurt so many people and caused so many people to die. 

“Yes, I will perform the Soulsong as God has asked of me.” She nodded and bowed in deference to her superiors. “On one condition: Lady Fang cannot know.”

  
  
  


* * *

**(VIII)**

_ [‘I was always a failure, I really messed it up when I got fired from my job and my husband left me. Of course things turned out this way.’] _

The black cloud of Chaos drifted into Vanille’s vision as she woke up, diminishing any desire she had to get out of bed.  _ ‘I’m no good, too. I made a lot of mistakes. And yet I’m still here, when so many people died or were hurt because of everything that happened after I was marked a l’Cie.’  _ Staring at the wall and thinking like this was the only thing she could manage in her despair. 

About ten minutes later Aremiah knocked on the bedroom door. One of the guards must have let her into the suite out of concern; most mornings they would meet in the dining hall, and then walk to morning prayers together. “Lady Vanille, are you alright? Can I come in?”

“Yes. But I’m,” it takes so much  _ effort _ to force the words out of her mouth, yet they emerge meekly, “not feeling well.”

As Aremiah entered, she frowned at what she saw. “You don’t look well. I’m going to get a doctor from the infirmary.”

Vanille protested but lost the brief debate. Aremiah returned with Dr. Dowak, the head doctor. “How are you feeling, Lady Vanille?”

“Just sick.” she mumbled, forcing herself up from the bed.

The doctor frowned after she finished her examination. “Your vitals seem fine. No temperature, your heart rate is normal. No other symptoms?”

“Well…” she trailed off, biding time to come up with a lie. “I have a big headache.”

“I see. Make sure you drink some water. We’ll be back in a couple hours to check your progress.”

  
  
  


* * *

**(IX)**

“I wish that you weren’t so sad, Vanille.” Fang murmured later, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Tears streamed down Vanille’s face for what must be the thousandth time that day, weeping over the souls that were innocent bystanders in the events of the world. Etro’s death and the release of the Chaos into the world- that was her doing. It’s really her fault, not anybody else’s. Especially not the souls. Death would be a small price to pay to ease their suffering. 

“I wish I could understand how you’re feeling, but I guess I don’t really understand it all. You’ve said you feel bad for everything that’s happened...but we did what we had to do to survive.”

“That’s the point, Fang.” She hiccuped. “We lived but everyone else  _ died _ . It’s unfair.”

Unfair didn’t feel like the right word, because unfair doesn’t describe the terrible person she was. She’s to blame for  _ everything _ . It didn’t make much sense whenever she said it aloud. Nobody could be the scapegoat for every single wrongdoing in the world. At the same time she felt it to be the absolute truth.

“I guess, “ Fang sighed and shook her head. “I guess I just don’t see things the way you do.”

  
  
  


* * *

**(X)**

The first time Vanille knew that Fang would never understand they were in Oerba, hundreds of years after the War. As they curled up together Vanille couldn’t help but run her hands through the glass-like shards next to their sleeping bag, silently despairing over the remains of the villagers- their communal family- made crystal. 

Fang had broken the silence by saying something then that Vanille knew that she could never, ever do.

“We have to let go of the past and move on.”  


* * *

**(XI)**

“So,” Lumina posited as she popped up behind a bush blooming with purple flowers,”When will you tell Fang about what will  _ really _ happen during the Soulsong?” 

Vanille winced. She knew that the chill running down her spine was unrelated to the brisk weather. “I’d rather not.” She said coldly as she continued pulling weeds from the ground. Lumina kept bringing the subject up at random, which was irritating. Keeping secrets from Fang was difficult enough. But even more difficult would be containing her anger once she discovered that The Order was asking Vanille to commit to her own death.

“Oh, so she’ll never find out? Because the moment she’ll know you’re dead Bhunivelze will wipe all of her memories of you? You know, Vanille, I’d say that’s pretty harsh.” Lumina clasped her hands, grinning. “That’s the closest a people-pleaser like you will ever get to mean.”

  
  
  


* * *

**(XII)**

“The old man sounded pretty down in his last letter.”

“Yeah, being without Dajh is so hard on him.”

“Think I should go visit? Could cheer him up.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“He always liked you better though, Vanille. I could tell. Liked you like a daughter. It’s obvious because he writes longer letters to you. He only gives me a page but he writes you two or three.”

“Fang, that’s not true. He cares about you too.”

“I know that he likes me. I’m just saying he always liked you better. But he’d still be happy to see me.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

**(XIII)**

Vanille sighed as she approached the hallway that led to her room. It’d been a long day of gathering souls in the Chaos at the altar. She was ready to spend the night forgetting about it all and relaxing with Fang.

Ahmid, one of the men in their personal entourage of guards, stood near the door of her personal chambers. Vanille had always liked him because of his friendliness. But as she walked closer he mumbled a salutation and didn’t even make eye contact. She didn’t think much of it, but she was too exhausted to take on somebody else’s burden then. Maybe she could ask him tomorrow if everything was alright.

When she entered the room, she found Fang sitting at the table. Her palms rested on her forehead as her fingers laced through her own hair. Pain clouded her grey eyes as she spoke. 

“I know everything about the Soulsong.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SXM132 for the proofreading.


End file.
